There he lies.

There he lies, stretched out like a king,

with hair of gold, a crown on his head,

or perhaps a laurel, proclaiming this victory:

he got the girl, I ended up dead.

“I won,” he whispered through the dark,

“I won,” he told me in his sleep.

“I won,” to her sounds like, “I love you.”

“I won.” It sounded the same to me.

There he lies, as he always does.

His words are false, I wish she'd have seen.

He should have never been trusted or loved,

But today she vowed the contrary.

She, with her soul like an ever-changing sky,

She was daring, cunning, and smart,

She, with her love like a stormy ocean,

She smiled and put a dagger through my heart.

There he lies, with her arms around her,

A noose around her neck, two venomous snakes,

The window drowns them in honey moonlight,

Spotlighting the reason my dead heart breaks.

Ghost, standing silent, on a mission for vengeance,

Ghost, lying still, in his blanket tomb,

Ghost, with a smile, naive and unsuspecting.

Ghosts, (count them: three) in this hotel room.